


A Fleeting Moment

by nevereverever



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (kinda), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Final Battle Rewrite, Fix-It, Gen, Love, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, One Shot, Self-Doubt, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 23:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21400444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevereverever/pseuds/nevereverever
Summary: Steve could not believe his ears when he heard Sam's voice crackle over his comm, so instead, he believes that he has imagined his friends to keep him company in his final moments.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Kudos: 69





	A Fleeting Moment

**Author's Note:**

> ummmm... I have been lurking here for years now, but I had to write this. I saw this look of disbelief on Steve's face during the last battles and- I had to. I hope y'all like it, so many of you create so many incredible fanworks, I can only hope to be among your ranks. Enjoy!

“Cap, do you read me?” His comm crackled to life with Sam’s voice. “On your left.” He was hallucinating. Maybe Thanos had actually struck a death blow and as a final courtesy, his mind let him have Sam back, if only for a fleeting moment.

Behind him, T’Challa and his sister walked through a portal that burnt his tired eyes and he was sure of it. There was no way in the world that they were back, not when the world was so cruel. Sam swooped out of the portal, and Steve smiled. at least now, he wouldn’t die alone. In his head, there would be people to fight beside him, the universe’s last hope. The sky lit up behind him with golden light.

When he was little, before the ice, before the war, before the serum, he spent the miserable winter of ‘31 dying. For months, he couldn’t breathe or think or pick up his hand to write. He’d long lost track of time, but it must have been December. 

His mama, Bucky, and Father Damien were gathered around his bed. His mama smoothed back his hair and told him that it was alright to go, that they would be okay. Father Damien read him his last rites. Bucky held onto his hand so tight that it was the only thing he could feel, and the only thing he could see was golden light. So beautiful and so warm, and his mama told him he could go-

T’Challa and his troops cried out in a huge chorus and it sounded like hymns. Bucky stood by his side on that enormous battlefield and if this was what came before heaven then he would get to see his mama so soon.

Until he looked around, and he found himself missing a face. A face with a cold smile and warm eyes. A head of bright red hair he could spot from a mile away. He had been able to bring everyone back for his final moments, so why not her?

He was always meant to go out fighting, so he said, “Avengers… assemble.”

The battle was bloody and messy and painful and breathless. Steve let the anguish in his body convince him that he was alive because it didn’t feel like this before. He let Bucky’s face, and Natasha’s absence convince him to keep fighting. He let the weight of Mjolnir in his hand convince him that he was still good. After everything, he was still good.

It felt like hours of fighting. Steve felt his life slip through his hands as he hacked his way through enemy hordes. The golden light was gone. It felt like hours of pain and death, but they won.

They limped off the battlefield and into Wakanda. They were wounded badly. Carol was burned and unconscious from her Snap, Tony took a sword to the side protecting her. They’d found Peter crying over his dad’s body because he’d thought--- he’d assumed the worst and had been too in shock to take a pulse. Steve had Wanda in his arms, sobbing because she couldn’t move her legs. But no one had died. 

It was a miracle, and her name was Carol Danvers. 

They made it to the field hospital, and everyone was tended to as best as possible. But even Wakanda’s technology couldn’t keep up with the thousands of wounded. He wasn’t sure how long he sat on the edge of the bed, his back stick straight. Somehow, he was still waiting for it to be over, for the gold light to return. Something moved in his periphery, and he tensed up. The canvas of the tent parted to let someone through.

“No worries Stevie, ‘s just me.” Bucky perched on the cot. He was bandaged and wearing clean, white clothes. Looked heavenly. Steve closed his eyes and a tear fell onto his cheek. That voice. For five years it had been in his dreams every night and then it was right beside him.

“I missed you,” he leaned into the warmth of his best friend’s side, “every single day. For five years.” His heart clenched in his chest when he thought about all the pain that Steve was feeling. No matter how strong the body, he’d always had a fragile heart.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky said, so quiet he wasn’t sure if Steve would hear. A sob pulled itself from Steve’s throat, and the tear tracks cut lines through the grime on his face. His words came out strangled and all Bucky could make out was ‘Nat’s dead.’

In silence, Bucky carefully tugged off Steve’s helmet, then his gloves, then his boots. He left for just a moment and returned with a warm washcloth. He washed Steve’s face reverently, giving every ounce of softness his broken body and broken mind would allow. He carefully shepherded his friend into clean clothes a nurse had dropped off. The serum was mending the cuts and scrapes, but it did nothing for the huge purple bruises covering Steve’s torso. Yet, even in pain, his eyes slipped shut and for the first time in years, he let himself take a breath.

“Buck?” he asked softly. He dragged a hand across his forehead.

“Yeah, darlin’?” He coaxed Steve into lying down with a hand on his shoulder. Steve clung to him, put his head on Bucky’s sternum and wrapped his arms around his chest, just like he had when they were young. Their feet tangled together at the end of the bed, and Steve wished so much that it was real. He wished that the battle was really over, he wasn’t dreaming, the light was gone.

“D’you remember the winter of ‘31?” Bucky hummed his assent and ran a hand through Steve’s golden hair.

“Couldn’t forget it, Stevie. You barely spoke for weeks. You didn’t eat, I could see your bones. Then Sarah asked me to get the father. I held your hand…” he trailed off. They laid in silence for a while, just feeling the warmth of two bodies against each other.

“It isn’t like that anymore,” Bucky said. “You’re here, you’re alive and real and strong. You saved the universe.” His voice broke over the last words like the edge of a shattered bottle. The sun was setting in Wakanda, and the sky had begun to go dark. Steve let his eyes slip shut, and there was no golden light. Maybe one day he would accept it.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me a comment if you have Feelings because god knows I do <3


End file.
